


Social Ghost

by narcissismchild



Series: There to Hear It [2]
Category: Bandom, The Academy Is...
Genre: Adam T. Siska - Freeform, Barrington High, Gen, Hero Worship, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissismchild/pseuds/narcissismchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My first day in high school, I was just a little man- still am."   A moment of the past in the There to Hear it Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Set while William is in high school, see the interview that inspired parts of this at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pP2k5ZeEPTQ

Adam T. Siska is a little man. Not, he thinks, that it matters: he'll grow. Plus, a person is defined by the content of their character, not the physical appearance: beauty is not real, it exists only in perception. Or so he recently read in a fortune cookie.

 

And he'll grow.

 

Meanwhile, all Sisky really has to do is breathe. Or so he thought when he woke up this morning. The further into today he breathes the more he feels like it won't be enough-- he can't find his classes. Neither, it would seem, can he find a teacher, his brother, or even the front office. He was sure it was just around the corner, but when he got there, "there" turned out to be the cafeteria. Now, more than ever, he's thinking that breathing isn't enough, but somewhere between his mind and his lungs the thought is scrambled to not breathing enough, and it's possible that he's hyperventilating just a little.

 

A group of girls brush by him and he is momentarily distracted from his panic by an extremely short skirt, and luckily for Adam T. Siska, this distraction occurs at exactly the right time to direct his attention to a familiar face as it passes. "Bill!" He calls, but Bill must not hear him, he just keeps walking, so Sisky follows. Catching up, he says again, "Hey, Bill!" and William Beckett turns around to face him.

 

"Um." Bill's brow furrows. "We are wearing the same shirt."

 

Nothing gets past Adam T. Siska, so he was, of course, already aware. Really. "Uh, yeah, Save's the Day's great, right? So, um, you know where the office is, right?"

 

Bill just looks confused.

 

"Because, uh, I really can't find it, or anything, actually, so that's why I wanted to find the office- or if, uh, you know where room 1534 is, then I can just never find the office and that would be okay."

 

Slowly, with a ponderous expression and a disbelieving tone, Bill says, "Sure."

 

Smooth, Sisky. Real smooth.

 

But Bill reaches for the crumpled schedule in his hands and takes it, smoothing it out between long fingers and looking more human as he skims the page. He gives Sisky some simple directions (Out the door, turn left, up the stairs, go right, it'll be on the right) and a soft, "See you later, copycat" that makes up for a lot of rough start that day.

\-----

“Dude, gym _sucks_ this year. Coach Lee is on maternity leave so Mr. Patterson is teaching.”

 

Adam T. Siska does not eavesdrop. It isn’t his fault that the best place to hide when you’re skipping class is under the couch in the senior corner of the library, where his brother Jason and Jason’s friends hang out during free period.

 

“Patterson? Isn’t he—”

 

“Yeah, he teaches biology and yells about dissection all the time. Last year, Kelly Johnson threw up twice in his class.” Adam’s not surprised. He isn’t taking gym this year, but he is taking biology, and while he has a strong stomach, some of that stuff would make anyone queasy.

 

“Glad I took it last year.” Jason sounds so smug. He spent most of last year crushing on Coach Lee and whining about her predilection toward wearing clothes.

 

“You did too, right Beckett?”

 

“I—um, I took correspondence gym.”

 

“You can do that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Holy crap why did I not know that? I would give my left ear to do that! _Correspondence gym?_ Please! I bet you just signed a paper, ‘on my honor I did a hundred pushups,’ no work required!”

 

“No, I really did it.” Bill softly insisted.

 

 _“Your left ear?”_ Jason sounded moments away from an actual fit of laughter, and someone shushed him.

 

“Let’s get out of here, the librarian is glaring at us.”

 

“Come on, I know a spot by the fence.”

 

The rest of Adam’s third period was pretty quiet.

\-----

Adam T. Siska has been caught.  Three months into the school year and he thought he was at the top of his game, but as it happens, the staff room is _not_ always empty during second period.  Too bad, it had been a paradise, a calm in the high school storm, the eye of the high school hurricance, a bomb shelter in the high school war zone-- but all good things must end.  And end it did.

 

So Adam is sitting in the counselor's office, because skipping class apparently indicates serious enough issues to require a psychology degree to fathom.

 

The counselor is a thirty-something woman, short, rounded, and vaugely condescending, but she's willing to hear him out, and he certainly has something to say about the public school system saping his life force, etc.  So when there's a knock on the door, he's almost dissapointed. 

 

“Just a moment.”  The counselor says, then calls, “Come in.” 

 

Bill Beckett, eyes red and looking distressed, opens the door. 

 

“William.”  She doesn’t sound surprised.  “Come trade places with Adam.  Adam, would you mind waiting outside?  I do want to know the rest about your life force.”

 

So now Adam is sitting _outside_ the counselor’s office, because Bill— _William_ Beckett is crying.  Or close enough, anyway.   And although Adam T. Siska does not eavesdrop, Willaim Beckett is _crying._   Anyway, the door is really thin. 

 

“Sorry…. that way.”

 

“…time you want, dear.”

 

“…I don’t even know, and I can’t r-remember how to act like e-everything…”  Adam has heard Bill stutter before, but now he wonders if it might happen more than he thought.  After all, he’s pretty  quiet—Adam hasn’t heard him talk continuously for more than a couple sentences in, well, ever. 

 

“Have you talked to…  could help.”

 

“…feel like it’s not enough.  She’s been so happy, and I…”

 

“Do you want…”  Who?  What?  This was getting really frustrating.

 

“No, I’ll wait.”

 

A pause, and then Adam has to try and act casual as the door opens suddenly.  William steps out, holding a hall pass and refusing to meet Adam’s eyes, even when he says, “You okay, Bill?” just hurrying away down the hall. 

 

“Is Bill okay?”  He asks the counselor when he goes in again. 

 

“He’ll be alright.” She says.  “Now what part, exactly, does scheduling play in mental, spiritual, and emotional entropy?” 

 

He tells her, but it’s not as fun now.

\-----

“Jason?”

 

Jason’s working on a science project, but he’s having a hard time staying focused—he’s gotten up twice for a drink of water in the last five minutes, and Adam can tell he’s looking for an excuse to take a break.

 

“Yeah, kid?”  Adam resents that.   He is not a kid.  But Jason’s already closing his book, setting the work aside and listening to Adam, so he’ll let it slide.

 

“Is Willi- I mean, is Bill coming over tonight?”

 

“Yeah, unless he blows me off again.  Why do you ask?”  And Adam knows this is when he’s meant to say, _no reason_ or _just wondering._   But he’s got that feeling of standing outside the door, not hearing enough to know if William is okay again, or really, it never went away, and he’s _dying_ to know what’s going on.  So Adam T. Siska tells the truth.  (Of course he does.  Adam T. Siska never tells a lie.) 

 

“I saw him at the counselor’s office today.”

 

Jason doesn’t look as surprised as Adam thought he would, so he tells the part he was _planning_ to keep to himself.  “He was crying.”

 

Jason still doesn’t look surprised.  He sighs, and Adam can tell it’s one of those Mom-is-sick sighs, one of those sighs that mean _I care but I can’t do anything about it,_ a sigh like the ones he gives when Lucy and Kate ask why they can’t all live together like other families. 

 

“Adam, before we talk about this, promise me you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

 

“I won’t.”

 

Jason raises his eyebrows.  “I’m going to take that on faith, because I know you, so I know that when it’s really important, you tell the truth.  Just remember that this _is_ really important.”

 

Adam has a feeling then that’s half pride and half guilt, but he knows he’ll keep his promise this time, so he nods and tries to look serious and mature.

 

“Bill…”  Jason pauses.  “I don’t know everything, but I guess he’s been in foster care since he was fourteen?  And the woman he lives with now, she wants to adopt him, but he’s not sure—he hasn’t decided yet.  It’s really stressful, and just regular life is kinda hard for Bill.  He’s… really shy.”

 

Huh.  ‘Shy’ wasn’t Adam’s impression of William, but Jason knew him way better, and anyway, sometimes Adam didn’t really pick up on that stuff.  Still—“What do you mean, regular life is hard for Bill?”

 

Jason looks contemplative.  “Well, for example, he freaks out about weird things.  He’s just—like, _nervous_ all the time.  It’s hard for him to make friends, except with girls.  Girls _love_ him.  But he doesn’t really talk to anyone but me and Brad, sometimes the other guys if they say something to him first.”

 

How could someone as awesome as William Beckett be nervous all the time?  Not only was he tall, he played guitar and apparently girls loved him.  It didn’t make sense, and Adam said as much, but Jason just laughed at him.

 

“Being tall would not solve _any_ of your problems, I don’t get why you think it would.”

 

“I don’t think that!  It would just be cool!”

 

“Whatever.  Now leave me alone, I have to get this project done.”

 

Adam T. Siska is a little man.  Doesn’t matter.  He can still be a friend.  So when Bill says he’s gonna play some acoustic shows around town, little coffee-shop-type places, and he asks Adam if he feels like coming along to carry his guitar, Adam says yes before he can finish the question. 

 

And if he can make William smile like that again, he’s pretty sure the burst of carefully concealed excitement will make him grow.


End file.
